


count the final seconds

by foxelot



Series: A-Z One-shots [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Everyone is Dead, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 14:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14263011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxelot/pseuds/foxelot
Summary: Their friends, their pack, are all dead. Every last one of them gone. If the hunters could do that, what hope did a lone wolf and a human have of getting out in one piece?





	count the final seconds

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the letter B and the theme Battered.

Chest burning, Stiles lets himself be pulled. The hand around his wrist is painful, but he knows that pain stems from fear. The gunshots are fading into the distance as they run, but they’re still audible and that’s enough to keep the spark of fear alive. That, and the smell of blood. It’s strong, even to a human nose. If it were daylight, Stiles knows the whole clearing would have been a vivid, staining red, but in the dark of the night it was hidden in the shadows. 

His arm is nearly yanked out of its socket and he gives a pained yelp as they change directions, trying to throw the hunters off their trail. Startled brown eyes turn from watching the ground in an effort to not trip to look at Derek. The wolf’s face is streaked in red, though any wounds that had been there before were already healed, or at least appeared to be in the dim light of the moon. The same could not be said for Stiles who had at least one sluggishly bleeding wound and many, many forming bruises. He’s definitely going to be feeling it in the morning, assuming he survives tonight. The odds aren’t looking too great. 

Suddenly he’s tumbling towards the ground, not because he tripped, but because Derek is pulling him down behind a large rock, out of sight. His back hits against the solid stone roughly, and the breath whooshes out of Stiles’s lungs as the pain shocks him. Now that they aren’t running anymore, he can feel every ache and pain, the shake of his body as the adrenaline starts to run out. “The others,” he manages to gasp out while catching his breath again. 

He doesn’t have to look at Derek to know the man is shaking his head. The others are gone. They had been ambushed and now, somehow, everyone was gone. Stiles closes his eyes, head leaning back. He strains his very human ears, trying to pick out the sound of the hunter in the trees, but he can’t hear anything over the sound of his own heartbeat still pounding overtime in his chest. He barely registers Derek’s hand squeezing his, but Stiles manages to return the gesture all the same. It’s not as comforting as it would normally be, the threat of danger still too high, but it does the trick at getting his heart down to a more natural tempo. “They won’t stop.... Not until they find us,” he breathes. Even that sounds too loud in the hush of the night, a screaming whisper among the trees. 

“Then we can’t let them find us,” Derek grits out, but he seems distracted. Stiles wonders what it is the wolf is hearing that he can’t, if the enemy is closing in on them again. 

Stiles lets out a laugh that’s more of a breathless wheeze. “Where do you propose we go then?” he asks. Their friends, their pack, are all dead. Every last one of them gone. If the hunters could do that, what hope did a lone wolf and a human have of getting out in one piece? Or mostly in one piece, Stiles thinks as he grimaces at the trickle of blood down his arm from the wound in his shoulder. 

He glances over at Derek when his question goes unanswered for a moment to see the other man is looking over his shoulder, trying to see beyond their hiding place without giving them away. “We keep running until morning. It’ll be easier to get away when we can see better,” he finally says, eyes moving back to Stiles. “Once we get to town, they’ll have to stop. It’ll give us time to recover and plan.” 

Neither of them say it, but they both know that getting to morning is easier said than done. Morning is hours away and they’re tired already. Stiles is hurt. It’s going to be one hell of a lucky chance if they manage. “If we’re going to stay alive until morning, we need a better hiding spot. One that isn’t open on three sides,” Stiles points out. But that meant leaving the one side they did have. The thought alone was enough to make Stiles’s heart pick back up again. 

But Derek is shaking his head again. “This gives us more paths of escape while keeping our backs covered.”

Frowning Stiles had to admit that the wolf had a point there. He hadn’t considered what would happen if they found something more closed in and the hunters caught them. If it only has one entrance the path to escape would get blocked. If it has more... “Okay,” he say. “So we stay here then. What if they find us?” 

“You run and I hold them off.” 

The words are such an immediate statement that Stiles looks at Derek sharply, hissing when that makes his everything hurt. “No way!” he protests, voice too loud now. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

“I’m better at fighting and faster than you, yes you are.” Derek leaves the argument finished there, tone so final that Stiles bites back the surge of fire that’s spreading through his body, the need to fight against the decision. But he’s tired and he knows he won’t win this one, so he stays quiet for once. Even without him saying anything, the air is dripping with how against this plan he is, but Derek doesn’t call him out on it. There’s no time for being petty like that, not when they’re fighting to stay alive. 

The silence hangs in the air a moment longer and Stiles licks his lips. “Can you hear them?” 

Derek looks at him. “I might be able to if you’d shut up.” The words have no bite to them, a weak imitation of normalcy, and even in the dark Stiles can read Derek well enough to know the real answer is yes. 

Stiles doesn’t get a chance to quip back as a loud crack breaks through the night and he hears Derek gasp in pain. Whiskey eyes go wide as they look at the wolf before searching out into the darkness. He can just make out the form of the hunter in the dim light, scope illuminating the smallest part of the night in red. They’d been found. 

With a growl as he surges to his feet, Derek angles himself in front of Stiles. The human pulls himself up as well, eyes moving left and right, trying to find more figures in the night. The gunshot alone would have attracted the rest of the hunting party. Tugging on Derek’s hand, Stiles tries to get them both running again, determined to leave no man (or wolf) behind. Derek goes with him easily, and they’re moving. The hunters shout behind them, but Stiles tunes them out, ignores the shots sounding around him. He just keeps pressing forward until a searing pain in his leg has him stumbling. 

The ground is unforgiven and he hears Derek’s roar above him. Groaning, Stiles tries to get his legs under himself again, but the sheer fire shooting through his leg whenever he moves it is too much so he stays down. Instead he just tries to roll, to see what’s going on, to find Derek again. Even that is nearly too much and it takes a moment for his vision to clear as all he knows is pain. 

Breaths heavy, Stiles looks over to where the fight is taking place. Or... where it should have been. But all he hears is a ‘Got him!’ and the sudden absence of growling followed by a thud on the ground nearby. “Derek!” he says frantically as he tries to crawl to the fallen form. 

A pair of boots block his path and Stiles cranes his head up to stare down the barrel of a gun. “This one’s human,” the hunter holding the weapon calls to his comrades.

“Kill him anyway,” says another one. “He was in too deep with them. Might as well be a wolf.” 

The only audible reply to the order is the click of the gun being cocked. Stiles waits with bated breath. He could try to beg, but he already knows it’s pointless. Instead he just stares down the barrel of the gun. The trees are quiet around him. One final gunshot sings through the air.


End file.
